


is that your pulse, or is it just mine?

by Imshookandbi



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: ...eventually, Angst, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Ghost TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ghostbur, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Philza Minecraft, Techno is a family friend but he considers sbi as family, Technoblade POV - Freeform, Technoblade is (unfortunately) merely a family friend, Technoblade is Suffering, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, a twist on Tommy’s golden apple addiction, ghostinnit, no beta we die like wilbur soot, pt1 is Pulse Lite pt2 is the extended version, set before the January 6th stream, the chat makes an appearance a few times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28871085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imshookandbi/pseuds/Imshookandbi
Summary: Technoblade discovers something in Logstedshire that leaves him with a million different questions in his head.How convenient that Ghostbur is there to answer them.
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Comments: 70
Kudos: 1191
Collections: Completed stories I've read, Jester's Collection, Purrsonal Picks





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey, Ghostbur,” Techno started casually, leaning against the doorway from the living room to the kitchen. Ghostbur was puttering around the kitchen, pulling out pots and pans and rambling almost nonsensically to Phil, who watched him fondly from the table. “Do golden apples have any effect on ghosts?”

At the sound of his name, Ghostbur paused and turned around, a confused expression on his face that vaguely reminded Techno of a small child. It was always like that with Wilbur nowadays, and Techno tried to ignore the way it made his heart hurt. “What?” 

“Do golden apples have any effect on ghosts?” Techno repeated, then pushed himself off the frame and took a few steps forward. The Chat was murmuring indistinguishably in the back of his mind, but he could feel their anxious apprehension. 

At the table, Phil chuckled lightheartedly. “That came outta nowhere, mate,” He commented, an eyebrow raising at Techno in amusement. The piglin ignored the look though, a sickly feeling stirring in his stomach as he stared intently at Wilbur.

Wilbur’s brows furrowed, a frown settling across his lips as he slowly set down a pan he was holding. It thumped almost quietly onto the countertop. “...Yeah, sorta. Why?” His voice sounded a little more steady as he spoke, losing some of it’s echoey, pitched quality. Wilbur sounded more present than he had before he died and it made something unidentifiable flare in Techno’s chest. 

“Just curious,” He answered with a forced shrug, he turned away from the ghost and reached over to pick at a towel. “Do you know what kind of effects?” 

Part of Techno wished that he could end this conversation, but he had to know. He  _ had _ to, even if the answer wasn’t something he was going to like. 

Wilbur watched him warily, he looked more solid than he did a moment ago, Techno swears that his sweater looked a little more vibrant. His eyes are a little more focused. He watched Techno’s movements like a hawk. “...If a ghost eats a golden apple then they become forcibly corporeal. They don’t have to exert any energy into picking up objects since they’re already physical.” 

Techno made a distant humming sound, nodding his head slowly as he turned the towel over again and again. The voices picked up volume, some part reassuring, some part anxious. “Anything else?” 

“You’re making me nervous there, Techno.” Phil said, letting out another chuckle. Techno’s gut twisted and he hoped, not for the first time this evening, that his hunch was wrong. “What’s this about? Why so curious?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Wilbur’s lips purse. He saw as his eyes flickered to the living room, where Tommy was sleeping on the couch in front of the fire, and Techno tried to ignore the way his heart dropped and his blood turned to ice. After a moment, Ghostbur spoke again, his voice much softer. “It also gives an illusion of being alive,” he nearly whispered, his voice like wind. “They  _ look _ alive, even if they aren’t.”

Techno’s eyes fluttered shut, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. He took in a breath and tried to ignore how it shuddered. “Is there any way to tell if someone is a ghost when they’re like this?” He asked quietly. 

To any deity above, please let him be wrong. 

“Yes. A gapple can cast the illusion of life, but it can’t simulate a heartbeat or regulate body heat.” Wilbur answered, and his voice still sounded steady. He sounded regretful; mournful, like he’d already figured out why Techno was asking. “Ghosts who look alive are freezing to the touch and you won’t find a pulse on them if you check.” 

Techno nodded slowly again, blinking back the sting in his eyes as he placed the towel back onto the counter. The voices were whispering denials and Techno felt their despair just as much as his own. He turned to face Phil and stared at his long-time friend sadly. 

Phil shifted nervously under his gaze, an expression of confusion on his face as his eyes switched between looking at Techno, to looking at Ghostbur. Ghostbur was staring at the floor, his form flickering. “What... what’s going on?” He asked, and again let out a laugh. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Phil,” Techno started, his voice thick and throat heavy. “When was the last time we saw Tommy eat something that weren’t golden apples?”


	2. Pulse, the Extended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Techno decides to stop by Logstedshire and finds something he didn’t want to see...
> 
> This starts a snowball effect and Techno really, really, _really_ wishes his family had never come to this place.

Techno doesn’t know why he decided to come here, his mouth settling into a firm frown as he pulled on Carl’s reins, forcing the horse to come to a stop at the treeline. There wasn’t a point to this visit, but still he lifted his leg over the saddle and hopped to the ground, his landing muffled by the grass and his own doing. The Chat was quiet, softly murmuring in the back of his head, he could feel their anxiety. 

Tommy and Phil were back home, doing who knows what, and Techno felt slightly relieved to know that his dear friend was probably preventing Tommy from doing anything _too_ stupid. Like building a hideous cobblestone tower. 

The sharp smell of sea salt stung his nose and the sound of crashing waves in the distance made his ears twitch, pulling him from his thoughts. Tommy was already staying with him, so there really, _really_ wasn’t a point to this visit. 

Except that there was. 

Ever since Techno found Tommy, ever since they decided to… team up, for a lack of better words, Tommy’s been _different._ Not in the greatest of ways, either. Tommy’s always been something akin to fireworks; loud and bright. Igniting the sky with great booming colors that drew everyone’s attention. 

Techno once heard Phil fondly claim that Tommy was much like the sun; burning and demanding, but holding a certain energetic charisma that you can’t help but orbit. Techno has found himself reluctantly agreeing with that sentiment more than once in his life, when he’s had to deal with Tommy in tournaments and the SMP alike, even during the Pogtopia war. Tommy draws people to him like a moth to a flame. 

(His mind briefly wanders to SMP Earth where a group of three other kids orbited a loud blond child like planets, holding a kind of ferocious loyalty that Techno has only ever really seen in Tommy himself. He wonders what a person must do to receive the full force of that loyalty. Wilbur somehow managed it.)

To Techno, Tommy reminded him of the runts he occasionally saw during his escapades in the Nether, running around with small swords in their hands, trailing after the rest of the gruntlings but falling behind just short. They were scrappy little things with too small tusks and too short legs, protected fiercely by the rest of the sounder. They were always itching for a fight, a spark in their eyes even when they couldn’t hold a weapon properly. 

~~_‘Runt of the sounder,’_ something in the corner of Techno’s mind, the one intrinsically linked with his hybrid side and instincts, whispered. _‘Protect the runt.’_ He ignored it like he always did. ~~

Tommy is his own kind of charming, and Techno hesitantly admits that it reminds him of an annoying little brother that you can’t help but love. He’s vivacious and obnoxious, crude and spiteful but somehow so very _kind._ The Chat adored him in a way that not even Phil was given the courtesy of. 

But something changed in exile. 

Tommy was so _quiet_ nowadays. Techno doesn’t know how or when Tommy managed to learn to be silent on his feet, but there’s been more than one occasion where one moment Techno thinks he’s alone, and the next Tommy is sidling up beside him with false bravado that Techno doubts even Tommy believes. It’s rare for people to be able to sneak up on The Blade, it’s even rarer for those people to be _Tommy._

He doesn’t talk much or as loudly anymore either. Tommy’s voice boomed when he talked, it carried throughout the room for anyone to hear it, and when he whispered it was hardly below room level. Wilbur once teasingly said that Tommy spoke so loudly because he wanted everyone to hear him, otherwise he’s just another face in a room. 

Nowadays, Tommy barely shouted. He spoke quietly, just like almost everything else he does. It was more common for Techno to see a burning ember than a firecracker in Tommy these days. Oh, he’ll plaster his signature grin onto his face and boast about whatever, throw around a few curses and insults, but it held none of the same oomph as it did before. 

Then there was his golden apple addiction. Which was nearly at the top of Techno’s list of _‘Concerning Things Tommy Does’._

It was common knowledge that golden apples didn’t exactly hold any nutritional value. They were for magical use and magical use _only,_ since any and all carbs and sugars were immediately swapped out for the magical healing properties. They were for when you were in a tight squeeze and needed a magical boost fast, they were _not_ meant to be snacked on like some sort of shiny hard candy.

And yet, it’s the only thing Techno actually sees Tommy _eat._ It was like clockwork; every hour on the dot Tommy would take out an apple and eat one. Techno was certain that it wasn’t healthy. Magical items can take a toll on you after extended amounts of time, it wasn’t difficult to get addicted to the power rush that came with consuming a potion or gapple. 

There was a _reason_ Wilbur jokingly considered potions as ‘drugs’. 

Golden apples gave an absorption effect for two minutes as well as a strong regeneration effect for a few seconds. Making them perfect for healing quickly when you were in the middle of a fight. Or if you were going somewhere and you were expecting to be attacked. 

Tommy ate golden apples like he expected to be ambushed by someone at any moment. He ate them as if they were the only thing keeping him _safe._

Something had happened to Tommy during exile, and Techno needed to find out what. 

So, with his lips pursing, he patted Carl’s flank and began to walk forward. “Stay here,” he said behind him for good measure, and was met with a huff in response that threatened the corners of his lips to twitch upwards. Carl was a smart one. 

He was not smiling when he found the campsite, and the Chat was no longer murmuring. 

_Who did this?!_ _Hurt Tommy??_ _He never mentioned this.._

_Explosions everywhere!_ _DetectiveBlade_

 _Someone has been here…_ _Blood for the Blood God!_ _Injured hoglet._

_This explains the singed clothing._ **_Revenge._ **

There were crater holes _everywhere._ As if someone had just decided to take a stack of TNT and go haywire on the area, disregarding any and all buildings or people that might’ve been there. Techno severely doubted that it was Tommy who had decided to blow his exile spot sky high. Not after everything that happened in L’Manburg. 

Techno was pretty sure that Tommy would never touch another stick of TNT for the rest of his life. 

So it was someone else. Techno’s lips curled into a scowl. 

The thought that another person had been messing with Tommy, had _blown up his stuff,_ while the teen was in exile, made his blood boil. Especially after the state Techno found him in. Living under his house like some kind of estranged raccoon. 

~~_‘Injured packmate! Someone hurt the sounder!’_ His mind cried out, he shoved it back again. Tommy was from Phil’s sounder, not his.~~

_Revenge!_ _Hah, raccooninnit._ _Blood as payment._

_HE DID THIS!_ _His head on a spike!_

_Protect Tommy!_ _He hurt Tommy!_ _Blood for the Blood God!_

_REVENGE._ _Payback._ _Technoprotect!_

 _Hurt him!_ _Blood spilled and blood repaid!_ _Revenge._

“I don’t know who _he_ is, Chat.” Techno hissed under his breath, gaze sweeping as he stalked warily through the damaged area. There were still burn marks on the ground and dead grass around the craters, dirt displaced impassionately from being thrown around by the blast. The Chat raged louder. 

That was something strange about the Chat. Techno always assumed that the Voices that followed him around were a manifestation of his mind, an outcome of his upbringing that couldn’t be reversed. But the Chat _knew_ things. Things that Techno himself couldn’t have possibly known. Techno had originally thought that the sight of the Chat was limited to only what he could see, but he has long since been assured that that was not the case.

He wouldn’t go as far as to say that the Chat was omniscient, but they _knew_ and saw things he didn’t. Whoever ‘he’ was, must’ve been the person who blew up Logstedshire. The Chat knew, and even though Techno wished they would tell him, he knew that it was a pointless endeavor. 

The Chat was braying for ‘his’ blood and it was almost impossible to calm them down now, they’d worked themselves up into a frenzy and it’d take ages for Techno to get an answer out of them.

Breaking away from his thoughts, Techno frowned when he saw something dark blue in one of the craters he was passing. He approached it slowly, his frown deepening as he saw what must’ve been the remains of Tommy’s tent sitting at the bottom of the slightly shallow hole. He jumped down to further inspect it. 

It was a ratty thing, more applicable as a thin bed cover than an actual tent, and it was soaked in water and mud, as well as covered in holes and scorch marks. Techno had a feeling that some of the holes had not been caused by the explosions. 

Just _what_ had Tommy been _living_ in? Didn’t Ghostbur build him a house? Why didn’t he just use that? Techno dropped the poor excuse of a tent and climbed out of the crater, following the path further along to find an even deeper crater.

And a very, very, _very_ tall pillar. 

The Chat went silent. 

Techno tilted his head up, feeling his eyes beginning to widen as the pillar just continued to _climb._ Up, up, up, past the clouds and nearly touching the sky as if it was the Tower of Babel. It was taller than anything Techno’s seen and he had to bring his hand up to cover his eyes from the glaring sun just to see where it _stopped._

Elytra were inaccessible in the SMP, so there’s no way that the culprit of the explosions built it to get away, and even then, there were easier ways to take flight with one. The only person Techno could think of who would make such a thing was… was… 

Suddenly, Techno wished he hadn’t come here, ice seizing his heart and freezing his blood. His head snapped downwards, eyes roving across the earth and automatically searching for something, _anything,_ that could have broken a fall from that. 

Because that was _not_ a survivable fall. Not unless there was water nearby. 

It wasn’t logical, of course. Techno knew that Tommy had to have survived that fall, or else he wouldn’t have arrived at Techno’s house. Tommy wasn’t grayscale or transparent, not like Wilbur. Other than his muted demeanor, nothing about Tommy had changed so greatly or so noticeably like Wilbur had. His voice wasn’t airy or light, it didn’t have that same, wind-like quality that Wilbur had where you just _knew_ that not all of him was there. 

But still, he looked. He was thankful for the Chat’s continued silence. 

Logically, there was an ocean nearby that Tommy could have aimed towards, but part of Techno still doubted. It still felt too far for him to reach, so he searched around, and the relief he felt when he found a pool of water only a few feet from the tower was immeasurable, his chest heaving as he let out a sharp gasp of air, his legs giving out underneath him and his knees hitting the ground painfully. 

He dropped his head into his hands, his mask pushed out of the way from the action as he slowly took in great, trembling breaths. His heart racing spontaneously as his arms suddenly became light and shaky. _“He didn’t,”_ he whispered to himself, and it reassured part of his mind that was still stuck reeling at the tower. _“He didn’t.”_

But that ice cold feeling didn’t fade. Part of him tried to delude himself into thinking that Tommy wouldn’t. That he _wasn’t._ But there’s only one way down from a tower that tall and Techno can’t think of any other reason as to _why_ Tommy would build something like that without the reason of ending it all. 

The Chat was still silent. 

Techno sat there for a few minutes, the sound of insects and birds and the lappings waves filled the air. It nearly muffled his shaking inhales that slowly began to even out as the seconds ticked by. He was still cold and his arms and legs tremored, still feeling light from the rush of adrenaline that had shot through him before, but he was calm enough to confidently stand up. 

So, with slightly shaking legs, Techno pulled himself off the ground with as much dignity as he could muster, pausing only for a moment when that dreaded tower came into view. That iciness returned and he quickly shoved it back. He had to get back home, with Tommy. 

With Tommy. 

He suddenly recalled the thought from earlier and felt violently ill at the idea of Tommy building another tower. He doesn’t know what prevented Tommy from jumping this time, but there was no guarantee that it would stop him a second time. But instead of there being a water pool nearby to save him, it would just be the white snow there to greet him.

~~(Would Tommy make a sound as he fell? Did he make a sound when he fell here? Or was it silent?)~~

Techno had no idea how to approach this. It’s something he didn’t think he’d ever have to deal with in his life. What was someone supposed to do when they realized that the youngest son of their best friend was suicidal? What were they supposed to do when someone they once (and still) cared about doesn’t care at all? 

_Technosupport._ _Technohelp._ _Help him!_ _Be there for him._ _Technocare._ _Help the runt!_

 _Show that you care about him._ _Support._

_Be a pillar._ _Technobro._

 _Big brother Technoblade!_ _Help him!_ _SadInnit._ _Help!_

The Chat had returned. 

Techno frowned and started walking. He hadn’t realized until it was too late when Wilbur was alive, and he had spent nearly every day with the man. He’s regretted it ever since, but maybe there was still hope for Tommy. Maybe he could still help Tommy. 

Soon enough he was back where Carl was and mounting the saddle. The Chat, no longer murmuring, was a split between ideas for helping Tommy, and baying for the blood of the person who had destroyed Logstedshire, because it was becoming increasingly clear that this was not a one-time visit. 

_~~Messed with the sounder. Blood spilt and blood repaid; a reciprocal exchange.~~ _

Techno absently tapped at Carl’s side, half lost in thought as they made their way back home. 

How was he going to tell Phil? 

* * *

When he returned home, he found Tommy munching on one of his golden apples in the kitchen, and Phil was nowhere to be seen. 

Techno frowned, momentarily pushing away what he had seen at Logstedshire as he slipped off his snow-covered boots and pulled off his cape. “Quit eating all of my gapples you little rat, they’re expensive” he said gruffly, turning away briefly to hang his cape over the coat rack at the corner of the door. “Where’s Phil?”

He turned back towards Tommy just in time to see the blond flip him off and take another bite of the fruit. Techno bet that it was out of spite. “Fuck you, I do what I want,” Tommy answered, his voice muffled as he tried to speak around the apple. “Phil went out mining, something about gathering more materials or some shit. He should be back before nightfall. Where the hell were you?” 

Techno’s frown deepened. He didn’t want to approach Tommy about Logstedshire and the pillar until he had Phil’s input and help, he was certain that if he tried to ask now, Tommy would close up and curse him out and that is the _last_ thing he wants. 

“Went hunting,” He lied easily, sliding over to the kitchen and opening up his inventory. Telling Tommy that he went to Logstedshire was also a no-go for nearly the exact same reason. He’d realize Techno saw the tower, would most likely (most _definitely)_ have questions, and then he’d close up. 

It wasn’t exactly a lie either, Techno _had_ come across a few rabbits on his way to-and-from the exile area and had killed them. They _were_ running a little low on food and he also needed an excuse for being gone for so long. 

Tommy made an uninterested sound that was closely followed by the sound of him biting into an apple. “Sounds boring,” he commented and Techno couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Not that Tommy could see it. 

“You think anything that isn’t fighting is boring,” Techno said, his back to Tommy as he pulled out one of the dead rabbits he’d caught and began the process of skinning it. The atmosphere was almost nice; normal. It probably wouldn’t have been any different from any other day if it weren’t for the fact that Techno now knew Tommy might be sitting with a clock over his head that was slowly ticking down, and he had no idea when it would reach zero. “Are you going to eat something that isn’t just my limited supply of golden apples, or am I going to have to shove rabbit stew down your throat?”

Tommy immediately began to sputter incredulously, a fast waterfall of words falling from his mouth that was almost impossible to understand. Techno was barely able to string together a coherent ‘I don’t eat only gapples, you’re just blind, fuck you’. He’s pretty sure there were a few more insults, but they were so jumbled together that it was hard to figure out what they were. 

“Whatever you say Toms.” Techno said, a low chuckle inadvertently rising from his throat. He paused, surprised with himself for letting the nickname slip. He could sense Tommy’s own surprise as well, Techno hasn’t called Tommy ‘Toms’ in… well. Since before Tommy came to the SMP, when Wilbur was still alive and there was no betrayal or war that had torn Techno’s trust apart. 

The realization tasted almost bittersweet. 

Silence fell upon the both of them that felt almost both awkward and comfortable. Techno engrossed himself with skinning the rabbits and beginning to make the stew while Tommy chewed on his apple quietly. The silence was almost suffocating, but neither Techno nor Tommy wanted to break it. 

A few more minutes passed when Tommy suddenly spoke up, his voice softer than Techno has ever heard it, even after the exile had quieted him so greatly. “I gave Wilbur a gravesite,” he said, and somehow despite his voice being so soft, it managed to carry through the room, nearly sucking the air away and filling the cracks and corners of the kitchen. “It’s somewhere near New L’Manberg though, I have the coordinates memorized.” 

Surprise flared in Techno’s chest and he blinked quickly, automatically shoving back the hitch in his throat that stole his breath from him so suddenly. He carefully turned around to face Tommy, whose head was now bowed and his fingers were fiddling with each other. When Techno didn’t say anything for the next few seconds, Tommy hurriedly added, “I- just— I thought you’d like to know. If you ever… wanted to visit it. I used to when I— before I was exiled, and I just…” he trailed off, his voice becoming quieter and quieter until he was mumbling words that Techno couldn’t make out. 

“I thought..” Techno paused, clearing his throat of the lump beginning to form before he started again. “I thought Wilbur wasn’t given a funeral.”

It had angered him when he had found out. Even if he had blown it up in the end, Wilbur was still the founder of L’Manberg and the first president, before he had gone off the deep end he was respected and loved. Schlatt had treated his citizens and cabinet like shit up until his death and got a funeral, but Wilbur didn’t? 

To know that Tommy might have given Wilbur one, possibly alone, made his heart hurt more than he could imagine. (A horrified part of his mind wondered if Tommy had buried Wilbur alone, he didn’t like that the answer was most likely _yes.)_

“He didn’t,” Tommy answered, his voice still soft and his head still bowed. “At least, uh, not officially. I found this really pretty spot in the forest that I think he would’ve liked and made him a headstone there. I’m pretty sure Ghostbur knows about it.” Tommy’s voice trembled slightly and Techno was cruelly reminded that Wilbur was Tommy’s older brother. He was someone Tommy had looked up to greatly and loved viciously. The two had been as thick as thieves for as long as Techno could remember and even if Pogtopia had driven a wedge between the two he wasn’t blind to the fact that they still loved each other.

Techno’s heart hurt. 

“Oh,” he said, and somehow it didn’t have the same carry as Tommy’s. It was like the kitchen had turned into an anechoic chamber and Techno’s voice had clipped off at the start. He blinked back the sting that appeared in his eyes, swallowing the cobwebs that threatened to block off his airway and turned away from Tommy. It was silent once again, but only for a few seconds before Techno added, his voice slightly gruff; “Maybe I could go visit sometime.” 

They didn’t speak again until Phil returned home. 

Techno didn’t manage to have that conversation with Phil. His heart too heavy and his mind too focused on the painful reminder that Tommy was only sixteen years old and had lost everything. That Tommy was sixteen years old and probably had to bury his older brother alone, in a forest near a country that got rid of him.

(And later, when it was well into the night and they all retired to their rooms, and Techno found a piece of paper on his desk with coordinates scribbled on it in familiar handwriting? Well, if he found it then he merely shoved it into his pocket and vowed to visit the place soon.) 

* * *

Two days later found Techno somewhere near New L’Manberg, just outside the borders and with a potion of invisibility hiding him from the eyes of any of the citizens. He was too far away for them to realistically see him, but he wanted to risk nothing. 

The slip of paper was held tightly in his hand as he weaved through the trees, the weather was a little _too_ warm for the heavy arctic gear he was wearing, but Techno found it easy to ignore as he traversed quietly through the snow-ridden forest. 

He still hasn’t spoken with Phil, they’ve both been too busy and whenever they have the time to relax, Tommy is with them. Part of that’s good, it means Techno can keep an eye on Tommy, it’s confirmation that he isn’t off doing something dangerous and that he’s still alive and breathing, but at the same time, every moment that passes without Techno telling Phil is another moment that the clock ticks down. 

He knows he should be back at home, keeping an eye on Tommy and preparing for anarchy against L’Manberg, but part of him needs to see this. Part of him needs that tiny sliver of closure that allows him the peace of mind that Wilbur now has an eternal resting place, that at least someone cared enough about the man to give him a grave. 

A few minutes pass and he spots a glimpse of a clearing, he can just faintly see something glimmering unnaturally, a tall marker jutting from the earth, and Techno picks up his pace. Partially uncaring of any noise that he might make, nobody was nearby, they wouldn’t hear him. If they did? Well, then they can just assume that it was a wild animal. 

He passed through the treeline, pushing his way through the surprisingly thick, snow-covered plants that surrounded the small meadow, and abruptly came to a stop. Two things cross his mind in quick succession, the first being that Tommy was right. It _was_ a beautiful spot, Wilbur really would have liked it here. 

Towering trees surrounded the area, the vines and thick foliage that grew in the spaces in between the trees created an almost startling thick barrier, preventing the rest of the world from peaking in. Techno was positive that if there had been leaves on the trees, then they would have canopied over the small space and created an almost hazy glow where the sunlight was filtered through the leaves. The place was beautiful in the winter, but Techno was certain that it was breathtaking in the summer. 

The second thought was that there shouldn’t be two gravestones. 

Techno vividly recalled that Tommy told him that the only person who knew about this spot was himself and probably Ghostbur. Nobody had died permanently on the server either, not recently at least. Everyone would have known otherwise, something like a perma-death was not overlooked easily. 

Something Techno immediately noticed about them both though, was that both headstones were made of some sort of mix between diorite and quartz, glimmering pristinely under the sun. Both headstones were carved rather well actually, and Techno wonders if Tommy had them made by a professional, or if he did it himself. 

Part of him largely believes that it was Tommy who made them. He remembers, back during the days of Pogtopia, finding Tommy in random places of the ravine with a makeshift chisel, chipping away slowly at the walls. Techno brushed it off as a weird Tommy thing, or even as a hallucination caused by sleep-deprivation. Carving stone took an amount of patience and precision that he didn’t believe Tommy had. 

Looking at it now, Techno realizes that there might be more to Tommy that he just doesn’t know. It hurts him. 

~~(How many failed attempts did Tommy have? How many hours, — days, even, — did he spend, painstakingly chipping away at a block of diorite and quartz just to make his older brother’s grave? How many nights were taken from him as he sat, hunched over a table, carving into a block of stone with a delicacy that most would see unnatural coming from him, just so that Wilbur would have a marker for his resting place?)~~

It still didn’t explain the second gravestone.

Perhaps Tommy made a grave for one of his pets? Techno frowned slightly at the thought, surely the teen would have told Techno about it. With a slight bit of trepidation, he slowly creeped towards the headstones, walking around it from the left and his eyes falling to the writing carved onto the closest gravestone. 

He automatically recognized Tommy’s handwriting. It was better than what he typically saw from him, but it was still inexplicably his. 

_Wilbur Minecraft-Soot_

_1996 - 2020_

_Beloved Brother,_

_“There is so much more to the world, you can go explore it. It’s all yours.”_

It was missing a few titles, it didn’t mention Wilbur’s position as a leader, or as a son, or father, or friend, but Techno surmised that it was because the grave wasn’t _technically_ official, it was a marker made by Tommy to remember Wilbur by, and, upmost more than anything, Tommy remembered Wilbur as his brother before all else. 

Propped up against the grave was a guitar, it was covered in snow and Techno doubted that it would survive the winter unscathed, but he immediately recognized it as Wilbur’s from when he was still living with Phil. If he squinted he could see the thin cursive of Wilbur’s name carved into the side of it near the upper body. 

(A quiet part of his mind wonders if Tommy had decided to learn guitar after Wilbur’s death. If Tommy sat in front of the headstone, hunched over and plucking at the strings one by one with as much patience as he had for making it. Techno vaguely recalls Wilbur trying to teach Tommy guitar once, shortly before they left for Dream’s Land. He wonders how far Tommy had gotten along before he was thrust into war and bloodshed, if he’d managed to start up again during that grace period between independence and the elections. He knows that Tommy didn’t during Pogtopia. This guitar is probably one of the few things Tommy has left of Wilbur.)

(Tommy hasn’t been back here since his exile.) 

There was a faded, folded up version of the old L’Manberg flag propped up against the grave as well, directly across from the guitar, and hanging off the side was Wilbur’s old beanie. 

Techno’s heart clenched and a lump immediately began to form in his throat. He shut out the slowly increasing chatterings of the Chat and squeezed his eyes shut, taking a moment to shove back the rising saltwater. He inhaled slowly, ignoring that his breath was stuttering again, before opening his eyes once again and turning to the gravestone next to Wilbur’s. 

Only to immediately wish he hadn’t. 

_Thomas ‘Tommy’ Minecraft-Innit_

_2004 - 2020_

_Beloved Brother_

_“Death doesn’t discriminate.”_

No.

_No._

It’s not possible.

It was written in Wilbur’s handwriting, the words carved a little too deep into the stone, and Techno wonders when _Wilbur_ learned how to carve. He wonders how the ghost managed to make it, when on a good day he can barely keep himself corporeal. 

The Chat surges violently and Techno is hit by an onslaught of voices crying out, their sorrow piercing him with a migraine so sudden that it sends him to his knees. At least that’s what he tells himself as he stares widely at the writing carved into the grave. 

His mind repeats a mantra of denial, but despair tightly cinches his heart and the Chat’s cries block out anything he might try to delude himself into thinking. 

Even then, he still refuses to believe it. Techno’s mind immediately flashes to the tower that he saw two days ago in Logstedshire, realizing that he never actually looked at the area around the pillar’s base and instead immediately began searching for water. It’s not impossible to think that his mind would have blocked out anything that wasn’t a pool, it’s not impossible to think that he might have missed anything that would prove Tommy didn’t actually survive that fall. 

Techno _saw_ Tommy this morning. 

(Except that’s Tommy’s bandana hung over the side of the tomb.)

He was perfectly fine.

(Except that was Wilbur’s coat he could see folded in the snow. Tommy _arrived_ in that coat.)

He was okay. 

(Techno found Tommy with eyes that were grey as stone. Grey as Wilbur’s transparent skin.)

He was _alive._

~~Techno didn’t fail to save another pack member, not again.~~

A sound, unidentifiable and strangled, suddenly echoes through the silent clearing. It takes Techno too long to realize it was coming from him, his eyes were blurred over and watering, too much was pooling beneath his eyes for him to safely blink without tears falling. He made the sound again and shoved his eyes shut, hands coming up to cover his mouth as he hunched over. 

He felt cold, Techno realized belatedly, tears streaming down his face and making his mask uncomfortable. It was as if someone had pushed him into a half-frozen pond and the icy water was soaking through his skin and settling into his veins like poison. Logically he knew he wasn’t actually cold, he could actually be considered overdressed while in the L’Manberg area, this biome would never reach the freezing temperatures that the arctic did on a good day. 

He still felt cold. 

Who had buried Tommy? What a stupid question. It had to have been Wilbur, it couldn’t be anyone else, or the whole server would have found out. It was _Wilbur’s_ handwriting on Tommy’s headstone, and it wasn’t so far-fetched to believe that Ghostbur could have forgotten that he buried his baby brother. Ghostbur only remembers happy memories; burying your brother was as far removed from happy as it could be. 

It was sickeningly fitting, having Wilbur and Tommy bury each other. 

The sounds didn’t stop, and Techno’s shoulders shook as he tried to calm himself down. It was a fruitless endeavor, his grief was too strong and everything he’d been shoving back for the past few days was coming up in a flurry of emotion. He felt trapped in a snowstorm. 

Technoblade doesn’t know how much time passed by until he stopped crying, it could’ve been hours or minutes and he wouldn’t — he _doesn’t —_ care. The Chat was quieter now as well, the migraine their anguish had caused having subsided some time ago. The pain Techno felt hasn’t lessened, it weighed down on him like an anvil, crushing his chest until his ribs threatened to crack and he couldn’t breathe. 

~~(The death of a packmate can bring even the strongest sounders to its knees.)~~

There’s still a part of him that wants to deny it. To deny that Tommy was gone. He had looked healthy and alive when Techno left, but he also knew that ghosts were fickle things and that there wasn’t much to know about them aside from in books. Wilbur was the only ghost here, he’d know the most about this. 

_The golden apples._

A singular voice whispers. It was mournful and choking and it nearly startles Techno. The Chat has always spoken in numbers, voices overlapping like waves on the ocean; crashing into each other and cancelling themselves out. Techno can’t remember the last time he heard the Chat speak as one. 

He doesn’t think he wants to again, if this is what causes it. 

“What about the golden apples?” Techno croaks, but the Chat doesn’t answer him. He lets out a bitter huff, letting his eyes refocus back onto the grave and he slowly traces the writing. He wants to reach out and touch the handwriting, but part of him fears that it will summon Tommy to him. He doesn’t know much about ghosts and their graves and how interacting with one will affect the ghost, up until now he wasn’t even aware Wilbur _had_ one and Schlatt was gone for good, there was no way to test anything.

Techno wouldn’t dream about messing with anyone’s grave anyway, let alone Wilbur’s. 

So he just sits there on his knees, heart heavy and eyes tired from tears, and stares at Tommy’s grave. He doesn’t think, doesn’t _want_ to, and so he just stares at the polished stone and allows his heart to ache.

(But his mind still wanders because there’s never been a time that it wasn’t moving. How did Wilbur feel when he found out? Did he feel the pull, a tug that told him someone had entered the afterlife? Ghostbur once mentioned that when he wasn’t in the overworld, he was in a place he called ‘the Pavilion’. He said that it was like a very large garden, with multiple areas with different flowers and grand, medieval buildings.)

(Techno once asked why Ghostbur stayed in the overworld so much if the Pavilion was so beautiful. Ghostbur had gone silent for a few seconds before quietly telling him that there was no one else in the Pavilion. It could only be accessed by spirits. It was as beautiful as it was lonely.) 

(Was Ghostbur in the Pavilion when Tommy arrived?)

(Had Ghostbur appeared in Logstedshire shortly after with Tommy in tow? Did they both travel to New L’Manberg with Tommy’s body, did they find the clearing and together buried him there? No, they couldn’t have. At least not together. Tommy would have never given Techno the coordinates to this place if it meant revealing Tommy’s death. Not when he’s kept it secret for so long.)

(Does that mean Ghostbur found Tommy’s body when Tommy’s spirit had left Logstedshire? Had he found it shortly after Tommy arrived at Techno's? Had he buried Tommy in the midst of Techno’s execution, before he had found Friend and before he arrived at the stage area where it was being held? Techno wishes he had paid closer attention to Ghostbur at the time, he can’t remember if he had been acting any different.) 

(How had Wilbur taken Tommy’s body to this place? Ghostbur had trouble controlling his corporeality on a good day. Something tells him that it has something to do with those golden apples that Ghostbur hands out like candy. What was so important about golden apples with ghosts?) 

Too much time has passed, Techno realizes, his eyes drifting to the sky. He needed to head back before Phil or Tommy (oh god Tommy) got worried. With shaky hands and a trembling heart, Techno picked himself up off the ground, his pant legs long since soaked with melted snow, and began back towards the nether portal. He pauses for only a moment to grab the guitar. 

He feels numb and heartbroken, but at least he remembers the invisibility potion he had with him. He doesn’t know what would happen if he got into a confrontation with L’Manberg now. Bloodshed, perhaps. Or perhaps not. 

* * *

Techno is still numb as he returns to the house, the neck of the guitar clung tightly in his hands. He stomps his feet at the top of the steps, shaking off the snow clinging to his boots before opening the door and passing into the kitchen. 

He’s immediately met with the sight of Ghostbur and Phil. Phil is sitting at the table, a steaming mug pressed against his hands as he grins widely at Ghostbur. Techno’s heart squeezes again, nearly shocking the numbness out of his body. How is he going to tell his best friend that both his sons were dead? 

~~His sounder is in shambles.~~

Whatever conversation the two were having ceased as the door slammed shut behind him, Phil’s eyes lit up when he saw Techno, but the gesture did nothing to warm the piglin’s chest like it used to. It just made him feel colder. “Hey mate! Where have you been? You’ve had us all worried sick.” 

Techno grunted lowly, distrusting his voice and trying to find a way to break the news to Phil. Phil immediately frowned, his brows threading together in concern at Techno’s nonverbal response. “You found it,” Ghostbur said, cutting off Phil before he could say anything. Techno turned to the ghost.

Wilbur’s eyes were locked onto the instrument, a blank look on his face. His feet were floating a few inches off the ground, and somehow he looked a little more solid, his eyes a little more clear. Something tells Techno that Wilbur wasn’t talking about the guitar. 

_He knows._ _Liar._ _He never said anything._

_The apples._ _Ask about the apples._ _He should know._

_HE KNOWS._ _Apples._ _The apples._

 _He knows._ _Ask him about the apples._ _He knows the most._

_ASK ABOUT THE APPLES._

Techno pursed his lips, nodding curtly before stepping away from the door, towards the table. “I found it,” he confirmed, voice gruff as he placed the guitar onto the table. Phil looked confused, and Techno tried not to look at him, his eyes remaining on Wilbur’s ghostly form. 

The Chat was still demanding him to ask about the golden apples. Techno wasn’t going to ignore them, he wanted to know too. “What do golden apples do to ghosts?” He asked, he felt tired and his body was tense. Wilbur looked up at him, his eyes lacked the glaze of a man who wasn’t quite present. Techno thought that they looked a little more brown. 

Still sitting, Phil let out a startled laugh, “That was a little random, mate.” He commented amusedly, but Techno could still hear the note of concern. “What’s up with you? You disappear for a few hours and then suddenly you’re acting strange.” 

Techno ignored Phil, which was a testament to how strange everything felt. Before today he’d never think to ignore him, but everything was different now. The sounder was in shambles. Everything was different and there was a distinct hole in Techno’s heart that felt hollow. 

He stared intensely at Wilbur, who matched his gaze equally. His face was impassive, unreadable like a wall. Then he sighed, the sound echoing off the walls. It filled the room and a cold breeze chased after it. ~~Techno can’t believe he didn’t notice sooner.~~

“Golden apples… golden apples give ghosts temporary life. At least an illusion of it anyways.” Wilbur explained, his voice steadier than Techno’s heard it since he died. He hated that it had to be because of this. “We become physical again, any ghostly abilities — like invisibility and intangibility — become null. We regain a living color. We will look just like any other living human.”

Wordless confirmation. 

Techno’s eyes fluttered shut, his grief coming back full force and hitting him like a punch through the chest. He inhaled slowly, an attempt to keep his breathing steady that was in vain. His head tilted back, a silent, final plea to the skies that this was just one long nightmare, that he would wake up in his bedroom and that Tommy wasn’t actually a ghost playing the living. 

Good things don’t happen to heroes. 

Good things don’t happen to their families either. 

When he opened his eyes he was met with the blank ceiling, the kitchen rafters were a second confirmation that this was now Techno’s reality. That invisible clock that Techno thought was still ticking had reached zero, and he hadn’t even known. Techno failed to save Wilbur, and he failed to save Tommy too. ~~(He’d already drowned in his tears at the gravesite, maybe he could do it again in his room when everyone else was asleep.)~~

Misery was acrid on his tongue and tasted like soot and ash, like gunpowder. He blinked back his tears and lowered his head, meeting Wilbur’s mournful look with bitter acceptance. “Where’s Tommy?” Techno asked quietly. 

Wilbur pursed his lips, then jerked his head to the doorway that led to the living room. “Asleep in your chair,” he answered, voice soft as well. His lips quirked upward for a moment, a flash of amusement in his eyes before it returned to regretful sympathy. “He’s been asleep for the last half hour.” 

Techno nodded curtly, and then, ignoring Phil and his worried gaze ~~(he needed to know. _God_ how was Techno going to tell him—)~~ stiffly began to march out of the kitchen, moving his legs was hard when all he felt like doing was curling up until a ball and disappearing, but somehow he pushed back the anvils tied to his ankles and moved forward.

“Oh, and Techno?” Wilbur’s voice called as Techno’s foot passed the threshold, stopping him in his tracks. Techno turned around and found Wilbur drifting closer to the table, his brother’s ~~(it was high time he stopped denying it—)~~ head was bowed, grey fingers lightly tracing the wood of the guitar before he picked up his head and Techno once again met lifeless, dark eyes. 

It was like staring into a bottomless pit and Wilbur’s eyes bore into Techno like pikes. “Ghosts do not have heartbeats.” Wilbur said near cryptically. Techno hated that he knew what the brunet meant. Phil still looked lost. 

As he turned and entered the living room, he thinks he can hear Wilbur murmur to Phil when the last time he saw Tommy eat something that wasn’t golden apples was. Techno thinks he can hear Phil begin to ask for clarification. He thinks he can hear Phil gasp sharply as realization hits him. He blocks it out. 

The fireplace crackled and popped as Techno walked in, the heat was instantly more noticeable here than in the kitchen, making the room almost uncomfortably warm as he drew nearer. Techno could see a small lump in his chair, the tips of a pair of feet poking out from the sides, nearly hidden under a thin, red blanket. 

Techno swallowed the lump in his throat and walked around the chair. 

Tommy was fast asleep, curled into the chair and buried under the blanket as if he could disappear. With what Techno knew now, he probably could. His skin was surprisingly pale, paler than Techno saw this morning, and he wondered how long the effects of a golden apple lasted on a ghost. 

Then he remembered Tommy’s clockwork behavior, and wished he didn’t.

He looked so _small,_ and Techno was once again reminded of the piglin runts he saw. Tommy was not a runt, he was not weak; his tusks were not small and his legs were not short, but he still had that determined spark in his soulfire blue eyes that reminded Techno so vividly of them. 

_‘Protect the runt,’_ his instincts cried, Techno could barely stop himself from snapping back that the runt was _gone._ ~~Tommy was never supposed to be his own Lycomedes. There was never supposed to _be_ a Lycomedes.~~

The only part of Tommy that wasn’t hidden under the blanket was his head and part of his neck. Techno knew that Tommy was a light sleeper, had been one ever since he appeared from Logstedshire. Whenever Techno went down to wake him up, the blond was already out of bed, ready for the day with a grin on his face. 

Techno hates the idea that Tommy might have never been asleep at all. Ghosts don’t need to anymore after all. 

But here, in front of the fireplace, Tommy seemed to be genuinely asleep. A peaceful look on his face that Techno hasn’t seen in months, and most likely will never see again. The realization dug into his heart with icy claws. 

Slowly, Techno reached out his hand, curling all but two of his fingers, and pressed it against the pulse point of Tommy’s neck. The freezing cold skin should’ve been enough to tell him everything; Tommy ran like a heater, Wilbur once claimed that it was because the blond was always angry. 

Tommy yelled at Wilbur for five minutes after that. 

To feel him so… so _cold_ was unnatural. Even in Pogtopia, where it was always chilly and there was no sun to keep everything warm, Tommy was never cold. Wilbur was always the cold one, always the walking freezer. They were two stark contrasts from each other and Techno hated that the only time they were similar was in death. 

Seconds ticked by, each one more damning than the last as Techno felt no beat under his fingers. There was nothing, not even a faint, fluttering pulse. Techno closed his eyes despairingly and let his fingers slip away from his brother’s neck. ~~Why did it have to be in death that he realized how much Tommy meant to him?~~

Footsteps, light and tentative, approached from Techno’s left, and he reluctantly peeked an eye open to see who it was. It was Phil, of course it was. Wilbur didn’t have footsteps anymore ~~and neither did Tommy~~ and the ghost preferred to float instead of walk. 

His friend was pale, his eyes a suspicious watery red, and Techno couldn’t blame him. He would be the same if he found out his youngest son was dead, Techno _had_ been the same. ~~He will be the same again.~~

There was a question in Phil’s eyes, a plea of denial that Techno was intimately familiar with. Part of him wanted to spare his friend’s feelings, spare him the pain of knowing that his sons were dead, that he’d outlived his only children. Techno wanted to save him the grief, the heartache, and to let him continue to live blissfully ignorant that his family, his sounder, was well and truly gone. 

But pretty lies taste like acid and ash and Techno has never kept secrets from his best friend before. 

He mournfully bowed his head, answering Phil’s silent question with his own silence and squeezed his eyes shut when Phil inhaled sharply. “No.” his friend whispered, and Techno heard a thud as Phil fell to his knees. _“No.”_

_“I’m sorry,”_ Techno rasped, his voice catching on hooks in his throat, _“I’m so sorry.”_

The Chat, which had been quiet since Ghostbur’s explanation, murmured sadly, and Techno could feel their heartache just as much as his own. He didn’t look at Phil, he couldn’t, not when guilt threatened to swallow him whole, not when Techno failed to keep both his best friend’s kids safe. 

Tommy was dead.

~~Tommy had killed himself.~~

Tommy was a _ghost._

Wilbur was dead.

~~Wilbur had killed himself.~~

_Wilbur_ was a ghost.

Wilbur was a ghost, but that ghost was a sliver of a man; a husk left behind with nothing but his happy memories to keep him warm. He was a shell completely unaware of the world turning around him, too wrapped up in memories that slip through his fingers like water and oil. 

Would Tommy be the same? _Was_ Tommy the same? Techno didn’t know. 

The ghost in the kitchen wore a faded yellow sweater but when Techno spoke to him he seemed more aware than Techno had seen him since he still had blood running through his veins and a pulse thrumming under his skin. 

So perhaps not all of Wilbur was gone.

Perhaps not all of Tommy would be either. 

But that still didn’t change the fact that the sounder was in shambles and that the boys Techno considered his brothers were dead. 

Tommy, ~~would they have to call him some version of ghost too?~~ slept peacefully in front of them, curled up under his blanket and blind to the heartache his family was in. There was no rise-and-fall of his chest, no soft snores, and Techno wondered again and again why he never noticed before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EIGHT THOUSAND WORDS OF NOTHING BUT PURE EMOTIONAL AGONY! It’s great, innit?
> 
> I’m considering making a pt2 where Tommy, Techno, and Phil have that “hey you’re a ghost” conversation... but we will see!
> 
> Come yell at me @zoomin_bi on twitter or @starry-bi-sky on tumblr!
> 
> [03/01/2021]  
> So..... this kinda hits diff after the March 1st Stream doesn’t it....

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I was gonna have Technoblade stumble into the living room where Tommy was sleeping and check for his pulse, but this was written on the discord app as a drabble for my friend and I didn’t want to make it any longer than it needed to be
> 
> Also the thing that Techno found at Logstedshire is Tommy’s headstone. Tommy wanted his body to be cremated, but when he wasn’t looking, Wilbur found a pretty spot in the forest nearby to put a headstone. He didn’t think anyone would find it.
> 
> I might make an extended version of this and post it as a part two where it starts with Techno finding the headstone and then everything following after it, but we’ll see about the motivation for that in the morning
> 
> Edit: Extended Version is currently in progress >:) 
> 
> Poor Techno...


End file.
